14 I am broken with wound after wound; he comes rushing on me like a man of war.
15 I have made haircloth the clothing of my skin, and my horn is rolled in the dust.
16 My face is red with weeping, and my eyes are becoming dark;
17 Though my hands have done no violent acts, and my prayer is clean.
18 O earth, let not my blood be covered, and let my cry have no resting-place!
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